


sore from friction past

by adeleblaircassiedanser



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Cock Bondage, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Misuse of ties, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Ties & Cravats, sin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 02:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7295266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adeleblaircassiedanser/pseuds/adeleblaircassiedanser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard seethes, trying to focus on driving and not on how flushed his face is or the fact that he’s getting a little hard now, just thinking about it. “Why are you like this?” he says, exasperated. </p><p>“Like what?” </p><p>“A normal person would be like- oh, I don’t know, ties can be sexy, let’s use it as a blindfold. Let’s tie your fucking hands down, not-” Richard splutters, shaking his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sore from friction past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daisiestdaisy (Doyle)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doyle/gifts).



> For daisy's prompt "misuse of ties" from an ask meme over on tumblr. Sorry I got sooo weird with this one. Also sorry it is almost 4000 words, not sure what that's about. 
> 
> Work title is from "Good to Love" by FKA Twigs, which I listened to while writing this even though the lyrics match my previous Gavrich fic better.

About a month after they won the lawsuit, Richard had a sex dream about a certain tie-related incident. Well, sort of a sex dream. It bore a lot of resemblance to a normal run-of-the-mill anxiety dream, but Gavin Belson's big, dark menacing eyes figured prominently, and he woke up hard.  So, sex dream. It wasn't the weirdest dream he'd ever had. It wasn't even the weirdest dream he had that week.

 

He'd forgotten all about that, honestly, though the latent tension lingering after that encounter had to account for some of the momentum that made the first time they fucked feel inevitable- timely, even. Anyway, because this is Palo Alto it's almost a year before he's reminded of it, because more often than not Gavin is wearing the same black zip-up jersey thing every time they hook up. When he sees Gavin coming out of the bathroom, though, with the tie hanging loose, shirt still unbuttoned, it hits him like a garbage truck.

 

 _Okaaay,_ he thinks. _Guess that's a Thing then._

 

He's gotten used to discovering new Things with Gavin - for all Richard's vehemently refused to get into the Daddy thing with him, he knows Gavin gets off on being the experienced one, on introducing Richard to new things, instructing him, _mentoring_ him, maybe, in some sick sense.

 

Speak of the devil, Gavin waves him over. "I want you to do it, Richard."

 

"Why?" Sometimes he's self conscious about how Gavin brings out his worst, most petulant whiner of a self. Other times, like now, he's horny.

 

"You're a grown man," Gavin says. "It's ridiculous for you not to know how to tie a tie, for God's sake."

 

"I'm a tech guy," Richard points out. "The only times I needed to wear a tie was when you were suing me, and my sister's wedding. Which, I'm hoping neither of those are going to happen again."

 

Gavin looks at him and shakes his head. "Still," he says. Richard gives in, starts to try to twist the ends together properly.

 

"You need to practice this," Gavin says. It won't be the first time Gavin's sent him home with an assignment. Homework. Most times it's hotter than it is weird. Today, though, Richard is not fucking around. He licks his lips instead of answering, glances up at Gavin's face furtively, then looks back at the tie. He's done something with it. It doesn't look quite right. He wants to unknot it from Gavin's neck and use it to tie something else- his wrists, maybe, or- he's not choosy. He wouldn't even mind if Gavin wanted to tie him up, instead. They’ve done that once before, sort of, Richard having to hold on to the headboard and not touch, and it was fun. He looks up again, blinks a couple of times, slowly.

 

Gavin likes his eyes.

 

“You think you’re cute, don’t you,” Gavin says dryly after a few more moments pass without Richard making any more progress in the tie arena.

 

Richard shrugs. “You think I’m cute,” he counters. That much he knows to be true: despite twenty-odd years of evidence to the contrary from humanity at large, for some reason this perverted old man has a major, embarrassing hardon for him. Richard isn’t going to question it.

 

He bites his lip again, just for shits and gigs, not even trying to be subtle, and feels the little thrill of triumph as Gavin takes the bait, eyes lingering on his mouth for several long seconds before flicking back up to glare at him. Richard’s never been objectified before in his life. The novelty hasn’t worn off.

 

“I have to go,” Gavin says insistently, ripping out Richard’s botch job and reknotting it easily in a matter of seconds. Gavin had mentioned more than once where he’s going, some kind of deposition in one or another of his million-dollar lawsuits, but Richard doesn’t really give a fuck. Gavin should stay here and fuck him- another million dollars or ten isn’t going to make a difference either way.

 

On impulse, Richard reaches out and tugs on the end of the tie a little.

 

“My tie, really? Is this a- an interest of yours?” Gavin says knowingly (and what a pompous prick, honestly, who else would be able to convey that much smugness while asking a simple question?).

 

Richard means to play it off, say “I don’t know,” or “Maybe. What’s it to you?” in a casual, dignified tone. Instead he does sort of a one-shouldered shrug and makes a mouth sound of some kind.

 

“Noted,” Gavin says, looking amused. Richard curses his own inability to hold the upper hand for any length of time.

 

“I’ll see you later, Richard,” Gavin says, and Richard squashes the alarming thought, watching him walk away, that he’d been anticipating a kiss goodbye. _The fuck?_

 

\---

 

That afternoon, Gavin sends him an encrypted message with the subject line “A Thought”. Richard is in no way prepared by that title for its contents; he does a literal spit take and gets chocolate milk all over his monitor.

 

“Richard, are you all right?” Jared asks, wide-eyed.

 

“What? Me? I’m fine.”

 

“You don’t look fine,” says Dinesh unhelpfully.

 

“You look deeply, spiritually disturbed,” Gilfoyle chimes in.

 

“Wow, thanks guys,” Richard says, standing up in a hurry and pocketing his phone. “I’m going to the store. Anyone want anything?”

 

“What store?” Dinesh asks, but Richard is already slamming the front door behind him.

 

“Call Gavin Belson,” he says as soon as he gets the car started, before he even backs out of the driveway.

 

“Richard, this is really not a good time,” Gavin says, and Richard can hear the smirk in his voice.

 

“Not sure why you picked up on the first ring, then,” Richard says. “I. I-”

 

“What is it? Spit it out.”

 

“You know what the fuck it is!” Richard hears himself shrieking, tries to dial it back. “Gavin, I’m not doing that. That’s not a thing. We’re not doing that.”

 

Sometimes Richard gets the vibe that Gavin isn’t even really into half the weird-ass shit they do- that what Gavin’s really getting off on is playing the expert, forcing Richard out on a tightrope just so he can be the one to spot him.

 

“Really? So you wouldn’t even be interested in subjecting _me_ to control and pain in a sexual context?” Gavin scoffs. “I don’t believe you.”

 

Richard seethes, trying to focus on driving and not on how flushed his face is or the fact that he’s getting a little hard now, just thinking about it. “Why are you like this?” he says, exasperated.

 

“Like what?”

 

“A normal person would be like- oh, I don’t know, ties can be sexy, let’s use it as a blindfold. Let’s tie your fucking _hands_ down, not-” Richard splutters, shaking his head. He’s on the highway now. When did that happen?

 

“Look,” Gavin says, “if you’re not interested…”

 

“Fuck you,” Richard says, but he knows Gavin has already won. “When?”

 

“Well, I can’t tonight. I’m flying straight to Los Angeles when I leave here, I have that fundraiser I told you about. Tomorrow’s not great either, actually.”

 

“Yeah, I remember,” Richard says, and gets into the exit lane so he can start turning back towards home. He’d better figure out some store to stop at on the way back so the guys don’t get too suspicious.

 

“Thursday?” Gavin suggests.

 

“Fine. But- um-”

 

“Yes?”

 

“If we’re doing this,” Richard says, “I’m in charge, right?”

 

“For Christ’s sake, don’t frame it like a question,” Gavin admonishes.

 

Richard rolls his eyes. “Okay. I’m in charge.”

 

“That’s right,” Gavin says, his voice dropping half an octave. Richard reminds himself that pulling over on the side of the road to jerk off is how you end up getting arrested for indecent exposure and tanking your company’s valuation. He shifts in his seat, takes a deep breath to keep his voice steady.

 

“Okay, so. Like. I don’t know what you usually do when you’re in LA,” he says. “But you’re not allowed to come until I see you. So.”

 

Richard feels a little flutter of anxiety in his chest. Some part of him still expects Gavin to laugh and refuse, or worse, to reveal that this has all been an in-depth, months-long prank aimed at proving just how much of a twisted perv Richard is to the world, and that this conversation is being recorded for a gotcha piece in Coderag.

 

“Okay,” Gavin says instead.

 

 _Really?_ Richard thinks, but he swallows and sounds reasonably detached when he says “Cool. Um. Bye?” before wincing and hanging up.

He stops at Costco and buys two cases of beer, which is enough to placate Jian-Yang, Erlich, and Dinesh. Jared trusts him implicitly, which just leaves Gilfoyle to squint at him in suspicion.

 

“You’re hiding something,” Gilfoyle says later that night. Richard does his best impression of the shrug emoji. (It’s possible he’s a little drunk.)

 

Gilfoyle chuckles. “I’ll allow it,” he says.

 

“Thankss,” Richard says, and excuses himself to his room to do research.

 

\---

 

“Hey,” Richard says on Thursday when he finally finds Gavin swimming laps on the patio. He’d spent a good fifteen minutes checking all Gavin’s usual haunts- this house is fucking huge- he’d started to wonder if Gavin had forgotten, if maybe he’d driven fifty-five minutes in bad weekday afternoon traffic just to wind up at an empty house.

 

He catches himself gnawing on his thumbnail, jerks it out of his mouth and crosses his arms forcefully.

 

Gavin pushes up on the side of the pool, climbs out, saunters over. Somehow everything about Gavin seems so measured; his body, just muscular enough without being showy; his walk, casual and deliberate, the way he leans in for a deep, searching kiss first, before even saying hello.

 

“You don’t smell-” Richard starts, stupidly.

 

“Like chlorine? No, it’s a saltwater pool,” Gavin says, edging him back onto one of the lounge chairs. It’s a warm enough night, but the metal of the chair is cool against arms. Gavin’s climbing on top of him, and Richard really should point out that this is stupid, Gavin is sopping wet and making his jeans stick to his legs unpleasantly. Instead he runs a hand up the ridges of Gavin’s stomach as Gavin licks into his mouth insistently.

 

Gavin hums and reaches for the hem of Richard’s shirt, sliding both hands up underneath and pulling Richard to him by the waist.

 

“Your hands are cold,” Richard says as he moves to wriggle out of the shirt. Gavin dives in for another kiss just as he’s trying to toss the shirt out of the way, so of course it ends up in the pool. Richard sighs, and he would go fish it out but right then Gavin manhandles him so they’re flipped over. He’s holding Richard by the jaw, just taking what he wants, unapologetic.

 

Richard wants his neck kissed, wants Gavin to leave marks, maybe. He pulls back a little, tilting his head to the side, and Gavin gets the signal right away, attacking his throat with tongue and teeth.

 

“ _Ohh_ ,” Richard huffs out. “Oh, fuck.” It’s maybe a little weird how much he likes this- “necking”, the accidental vintage sex-ed booklet back in Tulsa had called it. (It had also been implied that hickeys were a gateway drug to AIDs.) Thinking about it makes Richard feel younger, more ill-at-ease.

 

“Wasn’t-” he stops Gavin with a hand on his shoulder- “I’m in charge today.” He almost adds a ‘Right?’ but catches himself just in time.

 

Gavin grins. “I was wondering if you- had reconsidered. If you were having second thoughts.”

 

“Why, are you? I mean, I have some fucking- questions and concerns, yeah, but-”

 

“No,” Gavin says quickly. “Not at all. I’m- fully committed to this idea.” He nods decisively.

 

“Okay,” Richard says. “Well, can we talk specifics? Actually, can I just- change pants first? These are really uncomfortable.”

 

“Yes, I think this will work better if we’re undressed,” Gavin says. “Come inside.” He takes off at speed, so Richard has to hurry to step out of his damp jeans and follow. Gavin takes him into a room he’s never seen before, a walk-in closet filled with shoes and watches and _hats_ that he’s definitely never seen Gavin wear. And ties. A whole wall of racks of ties.

 

“Um,” Richard says. “I was thinking- or when I, uh, looked it up. People mostly use, like, string?”

 

Gavin’s watching him, but he doesn’t interrupt even after Richard trails off. It’s unusual. Richard wonders if it’s a concession to this experiment in power play.

 

“Just, ties are-” he reaches out and drags his hand down the wall of them, silk and satin gliding across his fingertips. He doesn’t want to think about how much some of these strips of fabric probably cost.

 

“They’re kind of too wide?” he finishes.

 

Gavin smirks. “Yeah, I thought of that. I figured-” he flips open a little compartment thing in the wall to reveal a case full of short, wavy looking pieces of fabric.

 

“What?”

 

“Bow ties, Richard. Do you think this one will suffice?” Gavin hands him one, black and silky, and Richard turns it over in his hands.

 

“Why- when would _you_ be wearing a bow tie?”

 

“That one, specifically, goes with a tuxedo. Anyway, is that really the most pressing issue at hand?”

 

Gavin’s leaning one shoulder on the wall, watching him, looking amused. His swim trunks are so fucking short. They should look ridiculous, but Richard’s eyes are glued to the track of the last few drops of water sliding down Gavin’s thighs. _Is it weird to think a guy has nice legs?_

 

Probably. Richard doesn’t really give a fuck right now. He wants to cross the foot of distance between them, to touch, to sink to his knees and- but no. He’s supposed to be the one in charge, for once.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he says. In Gavin’s bedroom, they both shed their remaining items of clothing, and Richard initiates the kiss, pushing Gavin back onto the bed. Gavin’s reaction is novel; he’s responsive, but he’s very clearly letting Richard lead. Which is weird.

 _Not necessarily a bad thing,_ Richard reminds himself, steeling his shoulders. _Just new._ After a minute of ‘leading’ or whatever, though, he has to stop and ask a couple questions.

 

“Um.”

 

“Hmm?” Gavin’s eyes blink open. He looks a little out of it.

 

“Just. Are you sure?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Okay. Just. Isn’t it gonna, like, _hurt_?”

 

“Does spanking hurt?” Gavin asks wryly.

 

“Right.” This is such a mindfuck. “Well, I’m just gonna keep this really simple, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I think it will work better if- if you’re not hard, though.”

 

“Sorry,” Gavin says, and he actually looks the part a little. He looks… affected _._ Richard gives Gavin a second to get his shit together, checks his face to make sure he’s got the go ahead. Gavin raises an eyebrow in challenge.

 

“Okay,” Richard says. “Okay, so I’m just gonna do it-” he reaches out with one hand and grabs Gavin’s cock and balls, grabs the tie in the other hand, lifts it up to-

 

“Um,” he says. “Maybe- can you, like, hold it out of the way?” He can feel his face burning red. This is so fucking awkward.

 

“I’m just gonna-” he manages to snake his hands around Gavin’s and tie off a loop around the very base of Gavin’s cock and the back of his scrotum. Richard finds himself rehashing high school anatomy - _The bones of the pelvic girdle include..._ _-_ snaps out of it. He loops the bow over twice. It looks messy, worse than he’d done with the real tie, even.

 

“Is that okay? Is it too tight?” Gavin shakes his head rapidly, eyes closed.

 

“Okay. So now what?” Gavin opens his eyes.

 

“Kiss me,” he says, in kind of a weird tone. Richard obliges right away, straddling him, feeling the drag of skin on skin. Electric.

 

“This is doing it for you,” he observes. Gavin nods tightly. “Can you fuck me like this?”

 

“I would think so,” Gavin says, but his voice is already sounding more fucked-out than smug.

 

“Will you be able to come?” Richard crawls back to sit between Gavin’s thighs, traces a finger around the silk restraint. On impulse, he lifts one of the loose tails of the knot and lightly brushes it against the side of Gavin’s cock, which is very nearly fully hard and redder than usual. It jerks violently against Richard’s hand, and Gavin grunts. Somehow with everything bound together, the movements are more pronounced. It should look silly, like a dick in a box, a badly wrapped present. Watching the expression on Gavin’s face, though, Richard’s throat goes dry. Experimentally, he leans down and takes Gavin’s balls in his mouth. He’s rewarded with a series of groans, lingers for a couple of minutes before moving to lick up the sides, mouth at the wet tip. He sinks down as far as he can (deepthroating is one of those things Gavin has him practicing at home), bounces up and down until his jaw starts to ache.

 

“Fuck, fuck, stop,” Gavin says finally.

 

Richard sits up. Gavin looks- his lips are swollen where he’s been biting them, eyes sort of wild and glassy, hair drying from the pool-

 

“Wait,” Richard says. “Is your hair curly?”

 

Gavin glares at him.

 

“Sorry, I was just wondering. What’s up?” Watching Gavin prop himself up on his elbows, flushed all the way down his chest and panting, Richard can’t help tugging at himself a couple times. He’s only human.

 

“I can’t,” Gavin says.

 

“You want to stop?” Richard feels the first flutters of anxiety returning to his chest.

 

“No. No, I mean. I can’t- finish.” Gavin’s face gets even redder, all the way to the tips of his ears.

 

Richard can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He feels evil and powerful, like Gilfoyle or something (except with actual power. And hornier.)

 

“I want to fuck you, I think,” Richard hears himself say. It’s not usually his thing- too much pressure, too many ways to fuck it up- but Gavin is nodding and spreading his thighs even wider, opening himself up.

 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Richard climbs back on top of Gavin clumsily, kissing his pecs and shoulders and then his open mouth.

 

“Please,” Gavin says, and he’s moving his hips like he might not even know he’s doing it. Like he can’t help it.

 

“Gavin Belson begging _me_ for something?” Richard says, emboldened. “No one would believe me if I told them. Turn over,”

 

And Gavin obeys, just like that, positioning himself on his hands and knees while Richard gets supplies out of the nightstand.

 

Gavin is tense at first, on edge, so it takes Richard a minute to be able to work the first two fingers in. When he finds the spot, though, Gavin flips, wailing aloud, his cock jerking itself around in mid-air.

 

“You can touch yourself if you want,” Richard says. Gavin doesn’t waste time, holding his balance pretty amazingly on one hand. Richard has the feeling that if he ever tried multitasking like that he’d fall on his fucking face.

 

Richard can tell as soon as he sinks inside Gavin that he’s not going to last long at all, which is a shame, because he’d like to keep torturing Gavin for the rest of time, maybe. He manages to hold out for maybe a minute and a half, though, before spilling into the condom. He can tell he’s making a really stupid face, worse than usual, so he’s grateful for the position. With a bit of luck, he can keep up this charade of a competent top for another five minutes.

 

“Turn over,” he says, and Gavin flops onto his back. His cock is so swollen, almost purple- Richard thinks again that this was perhaps not their all-time greatest idea. Gavin’s hiss of pain as he unties the knot isn’t reassuring, either.

 

“Are you… okay?” Richard asks as he tosses the wrinkled scrap of fabric to one side. He traces a finger lightly up the underside of Gavin’s cock. Gavin’s hips buck violently and he comes, all over everything.

 

Richard bites back laughter. “How did you get it in my hair _and_ your hair?”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Gavin says.

 

“Okay,” says Richard, and leans in to kiss him. “Are you okay though? Like, actually.”

 

“I think you- can probably tell that- look, you’re a smart man, Richard.”

 

“I liked it too, for the record,” Richard says. “It was less weird than I thought it would be. Some of the porn-”

 

“Yeah,” Gavin agrees, and shifts so they’re, like, full-on cuddling while covered in jizz.

 

“We should shower,” Richard points out.

 

“Mhmm,” Gavin agrees, but he’s already half-snoring.

**Author's Note:**

> Bury me, I am a sinner. Come sin with me at adeleblaircassiedanser.tumblr.com.


End file.
